Time Constraints

I had a lazy Sunday today and decided to check up on my blog. I was shocked to see that I haven't posted in over three months!? I checked and I'm still paying a monthly bill to my automatic blog writer so I'm now quite disappointed in him and yes, a lawsuit will be headed your way Mr. Ibrahimer of Sudan. I'm going to need that $10,000 back, plus interest! Anyway, I can sympathize with Mr. Ibrahimer because, well, sometimes life gets in the way of blog writing. For him it may be piracy; for me it's marriage, teaching, running, sawing, hopscotching, book binding, and table cloth sewing. There are just so many things that compete for my time and even though I see blog composing as fairly worthwhile, I can rarely justify its position above journal writing or talking on the phone with my family. Blog posting just keeps getting pushed aside for more appropriate tasks until you wake up one day and realize that you're paying a non-English speaker $10,000 a month to also not update your blog. I can't say this is necessarily a turning point because my busyness has not subsided, but perhaps it will act as a reminder that I am still alive and you can take down the "Missing" posters of my face that I've been seeing around the local library.
One hobby that's been keeping me occupied is running. I signed up for another half-marathon this year and I'll be competing in the Richmond (VA) half on November 15. That gives me about two weeks. Luckily, I didn't just start preparing. I started yesterday. Just kidding! In fact, I started running on September 15, two days after taking the GRE. In two months I've seen myself improve dramatically and I think I'm going to be well prepared for race day. That is, of course, if my replacement legs come in by then. You see, during the first week of training my legs got pretty tired and I realized that they were never going to keep it up for two months. Because of this I responded to an internet request made by an email acquaintance of mine, Prince Juhara of Senegal. Prince Juhara originally mistakenly emailed me- thinking I was a dear friend of his- asking for some money to get out of a sticky situation he was in. I replied and told him that I was regrettably not the friend he thought I was, but since he had 'prince' for a title I was immediately intrigued. Turns out he didn't have the email address of the friend in question, so I jumped up his friend list with just a few friendly emails and before I knew it he was enlisting my help!  I cannot express the honor I felt when he told me I was considered among his top 6 friends and that he had turned to me when he was in a pickle. I sent him the $8,000 he requested, but only with the guarantee of something in return. I'm no dumb investor. In return for the cash he promised to send me some prosthetic legs that he guaranteed would help me run 'faster than Usain Bolt.' What a great guy, that Prince Juhara. Once I learned that those were coming I pretty much just stopped training and dedicated my time to stalking the post office instead. They still haven't arrived but I'm feeling pretty confident in my new found best friend. Stay posted for the race results (not on my blog, but on the Richmond Half Marathon website).
Also, married life continues to be blissful. I'm loving it.

Married Life- One Month In

Married life continues to be wonderful. One issue that has been interesting, however, is the non-verbal communicado. Take, for example the note I came home to the other day. It was on our super ghetto breadbox, which was housing some delicious lemon poppy-seed bread that the cookander-in-chief made. The note said "Do not lift unless you can kill it."

That's all. Nothing else. The way I see it, that note could be interpreted two different ways:

1. In a metaphorical sense, Caity is sick of me nibbling on the bread, destroying its beautiful shape and refusing to cut off pieces when I eat it. The note could be subtly telling me that if I'm going to eat one piece, I'd better eat the entire thing. To 'kill it' if you will. If that is the case, then it is definitely indicative of a much deeper issue. Clearly, Caity takes issue with my inability to finish what I start. She probably sits at home all day wondering if I'm ever going to repair the fridge so we don't have to eat out of ice chests anymore, or if I'm ever going to finish what I started with taking the trash ALL the way out and not just to the back door for the coyotes to finish. If that is the case, the note is a sign of a much, much deeper issue in our young marriage. A part of me feels like I should take about it with her, and a part of me says "Keep everything to yourself in your wedded life."
2. In a literal sense, she could be implying that there's something menacing under or in the breadbox.  Something that must be killed. What could it be? Whatever it was was so terrifying that she didn't even have time to warn me of it's nature, just that it's life needed to cease. A ghost? A snake? A cricket? A feral wolf? 

Well, eventually I decided that as Caity wasn't going to be home for a few hours and whatever was under or in that breadbox was nibbling at my food, so it was time to take action. I Googled "What hides in a breadbox?" but all the results were Pinterest links to children's games involving hiding paper dolls in breadboxes. I tried to resist, but since I was alone at my computer after dark I ended up giving in and looking at kids' Pinterest ideas for an hour. There are some REALLY cute pinwheel ideas that fit perfectly in a breadbox. But then, then, that's when I buckled down. I got the fire extinguisher in one hand and a baseball bat in the other and approached the kitchen. It was dark. I opted against turning the light on because I've found that wielding a baseball bat is way more fun in the dark. I approached the breadbox, ready to either completely annihilate a fire-breathing dragon or entirely eat the rest of the nibbled bread. I opened the lid. Nothing. I lifted the box up. A baby cricket was there, trapped underneath the box. I killed him. I'm pretty sure that's what the note was about. It was not the sign of a deeper communication issue. It was not a feral wolf. It was just a cricket, which Caity hates more than death. Problem solved. The problem of the cricked, anyway. The problem of the non-verbal communication still remains.

PS- As always, the vast majority of this is hyperbole. We don't have any communication issues and no one gave me that wedding advice in the second paragraph. We're doing juuuuust great. :)

Married Life- Three Weeks In

Well, The Lovely Mrs. Holla Atchya and I were wed three weeks ago in a blissful ceremony atop Belmont's highest hill. Everything went perfectly and as it was supposed to. We really wouldn't have changed a dang thing. If you want to see a preview of the pictures to come, you can check out this Facebook link.
They say that marriage is an adjustment, and even more so for members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints (Mormons) who don't co-habitat before marriage. Now that I've been married for the entirety of my adult, married life, I can say the adjustment hasn't been too bad. It could be that Caity and I spent ample amounts of time together before we wed- doing virtually everything together except going to bed- or the fact that we're both pretty easygoing, un-phased people, but the adjustment has hardly been one at all. I can honestly say that the only differences to married life have been fantastic ones! Granted we have a little bit of a unique life right now- neither of us are working or looking very hard for work. It's hard NOT to enjoy life when you're newlywed and enjoying a two month Summer break. I have learned a few things about marriage though, and I'd like to share them for posterity's sake:

• Pick your side of the bed wisely, for it will not change. Many a married couple can attest to this fact. I sleep on the right side of our bed. I'm not sure how it even started; I'm not sure if it was by assignment, lottery, default, process of elimination, or choice, but I am forever destined to the right side of the bed. One night while Caity was brushing her teeth I sneaked under the covers on the left side of the bed, and almost immediately thereafter a thunderstorm rolled in and caught our indoor fern on fire. There is no plausible explanation how the lightening could have caught the plant in our living room on fire except that I experimented with the other side of the bed. Never again.
• You won't sleep as well for the first few months of your marriage because it's a big change sharing a bed with someone. This one has turned out to be absolutely true. In order to cut on some costs of furnishing a new house, we made the decision that we wouldn't get a new bed. It's just so expensive buying a frame and mattress and bed spread and sheets and the like. Instead, we've just been sharing the twin bed that my previous roommate left when he moved out. We trucked it over to the new house and have been sleeping on it together. When I slept on it by myself my toes- 6 feet and 2 inches away from the headboard- hung over the edge. Now, with two of us, my right arm, toes, and bellybutton all hang off the edge on any given night. It's impossible to tell anything from your spouse's body language while you're going to bed because it's the same sort of crammed, fetal position every night. So yes, that little factoid is true- you definitely don't sleep as well after marriage.
• Marriage matures you. This bit of advice is also true. Since being married I've sold my motorcycle (true, actually), wised up on my sodium intake, and become a much more budgeted chopper. I used to cut celery and carrots completely sporadically, but since getting married and settling down a little I now realize the importance of keeping my ten fingers intact and chop with much greater awareness. I've grown-up a little in the area of cleanliness, too. No one wants a messy spouse. I've started by dusting the entire house. That sort of backfired on me when I dusted Caity's 10,000 piece puzzle, which she had already split up into 150 different groupings by color. My duster mixed them all together, which apparently she didn't like. Another cleaning goal I've had has been to always vacuum the living room carpet after I've walked on it. Caity thinks this is excessive, but I just keep telling her that marriage has matured me and I need to stop being a sloppy bachelor. She was particularly upset with me when I vacuumed after she laid out all her pearls on the living room floor to string them. I thought they were just old, perfectly round seashells that got left over when we emptied the beachbag on her ball gown! By the time she came back in the living room after getting a sip of lemonade I had already emptied the vacuum bag down the disposal (I find that much more sanitary than throwing it in the icky trash can) and turned it on. Needless to say she has NOT been pleased with my maturation process.

Yep, marriage has been great. It's had its few surprises, but with three weeks under my belt it's already had a profoundly positive affect on my life. I'd highly recommend it to anyone!